The Many Trials of a Washed Up Prefect
by Erin66200
Summary: In the after-math of the war, Percy is having a rough day. From the thrill of combing his favorite quill to the agony of a family dinner cooked by Mr. Weasley, join him as he attempts to set straight the mess he calls his life. Post DH. R&R, baby!


1**J.K. Rowling owns this. I know I am not J.K. Rowling because I am not a Hufflepuff. **

Percy Weasley was extremely nervous.

He had never been in position to make such a momentous decision in his life. Looking at the wizards and witches around him, he saw no outward signs by which to gage their thoughts. He was on his own. Stifling a groan, he turned his gaze back on the uncomfortable-looking chair before him.

"After, er, examining the evidence both for and against you, Mr. Malfoy," he began uncertainly, "we are ready to come to a decision." No one voiced a different opinion, which he took as a good sign. "All those who find Mr. Malfoy guilty of the deliberate use of the Cruciatus Curse, the aiding and abetting of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and the attempted murder of Albus Dumbledore, please raise your hand."

Around half of the Wizengamot lifted their hand into the air.

"Those who wish to clear Mr. Malfoy of all charges, raise your hand."

Percy looked around and saw that the same number as before had voted. "It seems we, er, have a tie." But how could this be? There were an odd number of witches and wizards in the Wizengamot...

"Mr. Weasley," said Theodore Nott nastily, and quite loudly, from the other end of the panel. "If _you _would be so kind as to cast your vote..." A smattering of Slytherin scoffs echoed around the courtroom.

"Oh. Right." Percy flushed furiously and immediately shot his hand into the air.

With a sob of happiness, Narcissa Malfoy burst out of her seat and wrapped her arms around her son. Draco grimaced as her tears dripped onto his immaculately gelled hair, but looked please nonetheless. After a moment of confusion, Percy realized that his hastily added vote had been counted among those who wanted Malfoy to walk free. It was just as well, seeing as he had never really come to a decision on the matter.

Nott looked on victoriously from his spot at the far side of the Wizengamot seats. His fellow Slytherins in the audience– those that hadn't been carted off to Azkaban– also seemed to be gloating. Ignoring the feeling that he had just let down Godric Griffindor himself, Percy said a few silly, ceremonious words of closing and the hearing was over.

Thank Merlin that Shacklebolt would return from his stint in Bulgaria later that day. Percy didn't think he could handle being in charge of Malfoy Sr.'s hearing tomorrow.

O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O.

Percy was meticulously cleaning his collection of quills when a silver bear trotted into his office. He looked up and sighed. "What is it, Mum?"

"Just wanted to check up on you, dear!" said the Patronus, with the most affectionate look that a bear could muster. She had been absolutely stifling in her overprotectiveness ever since Fred's death, but Percy wasn't complaining. He felt it was more than he deserved after turning his back on his family for three years.

"Well, I'm fine. Just tidying up." He held up a quill to illustrate the point, although he wasn't sure if Patronuses could see.

"Lovely, lovely. And how did your trial go? Were you alright?"

Percy's ears turned pink as he looked back on his numerous blunders. "Er, yes. Quite alright."

The bear beamed, then changed the subject. "Well, dear, I must insist that you join the family for dinner tonight!"

"Oh, Mum, I've got my hands full here, I doubt I can–"

Molly Weasley glowered.

"But I'm sure I'll be able to drop in."

"Good, good. Oh, your father is home. Dinner's at 6:00!" And with that the Patronus vanished, leaving a disgruntled Percy in its wake.

He'd been thankful for his family's forgiveness, but dinner with them was something he tried to avoid. Besides George's merciless teasing and his mother's constant inquiries after his health, a moment always arose in which he could sense that one of the Weasleys was thinking about how he had deserted them during the war. It was because of these occasions that he preferred to skip out on family meals, choosing to only drop by the Burrow later in the evening for a quick chat before heading off to his own tiny flat.

Resigning himself to the fact that he _would _be dining with his family, Percy quickly finished combing the feathers of his favorite quill and trudged out his office.

As he walked out of the Ministry's front door and down the pristine steps, he nearly collided with a tall wizard who had suddenly Apparated a mere two feet ahead of him. He stammered out an apology- although he felt it really was the other man's fault- and looked up to see Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Ah, Percy," said Shacklebolt. "There you are."

It was a refreshing change to have a boss that remembered Percy's name.

"Hello, sir," Percy said. "Things in Bulgaria alright?"

Kingsley nodded distractedly. "What happened in Malfoy's trial?"

"Oh." Percy fidgeted a bit. "It was quite close. Nearly a tie, in fact. But he ended up being acquitted." Seeing Kingsley's less-than-happy face, Percy pressed on. "Due to his mother's assistance of Harry Potter, I expect. And his young age at the time of his initiation as a Death Eater..."

"Well, I doubt his father will get off so easy. He'll be in Azkaban for at least two years, I'll see to that." Kingsley seemed to be consoling himself. "I won't let _two _Malfoys get off easier than they deserve."

They parted ways and Percy continued to the Burrow, feeling even less cheerful than he had before, and once more consumed with shame over his actions at the trial.

O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O.

Arthur Weasley stepped into the Burrow with a sigh. It had been a long day at the Ministry, and all he wanted was a quick cuddle with his Mollywobbles. However, his wife was nowhere to be found.

Suddenly, he heard her voice from within Percy's old bedroom. After climbing the stairs, he popped his head through the doorway and saw her sitting on the bed, holding a shabby brown book and closing her eyes in concentration. She looked up.

"Oh, your father is home. Dinner's at 6:00!" She let out a long breath and dropped the book, looking fatigued. Arthur frowned.

"Who were you talking to?"

Molly glared, already defensive. "Percy."

"And was he talking to _you_?"

Molly looked away.

"That's what I thought. Molly, I've told you a thousand times, the use of a conversing Patronus is highly dangerous! You can't pay attention to what's happening around you and are _extremely _vulnerable to attack! If–"

But Molly's eyes narrowed with a much too familiar look. For a moment, Arthur valiantly tried to finish his sentence, but trailed off once his wife rose to her feet.

"I am well aware of the danger, Arthur, and am perfectly capable of defending myself. I'd thank you to not order me around like one of the children."

Arthur mumbled incoherently, then wisely decided to drop the subject. "Quite a day at the Ministry."

Molly's expression softened. "What happened?"

"Well, other than it being Draco Malfoy's trial, there was a huge scandal in my department. Someone thought it'd be funny to bewitch hundreds of articles of clothing in a Muggle store, and half had been sold by the time we got wind of it. We've tracked most of it down and performed the necessary memory modifications, but I know there are still at least three pairs of shoes and six scarves out there somewhere."

Molly clucked her tongue sympathetically. "What's wrong with them? What charms were used?"

"That's the problem. We don't even know. Nearly all of the items we've taken back had a different spell cast, and they ranged from making the Muggle feel hideously fat to forcing them to rip all their hair out. It could be anything."

"But that's terrible!" Molly cried. "Arthur, why can't you find the remaining clothing?"

"It seems to be cast with some charm that makes it nearly impossible to track. I've no idea what, though."

They exchanged a serious look. Then Arthur said brightly, "But what's for dinner, Mollywobbles? I'm starving."

"Oh, don't you _Mollywobbles _me. I've been up to my ears all day in laundry, and I expect you to cook the potatoes if you ever want to taste one of my meals again!"

Amazed at the severity of this threat, Arthur followed his wife down the stairs, wand drawn and ready for whatever potatoes she might want him to sort out.

O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O. O.

"What's wrong with the potatoes? They're lumpy tonight."

Arthur glared at Ron, then shoveled more lambchop into his mouth.

"Oh, don't bother your father. He worked quite hard on those potatoes, even if they didn't turn out right." Molly's defense was hardly better than Ron's insult.

"For your information," Arthur began woundedly, "I followed the instructions in _Crandall Crunchie's Cookbook for Cads _to the–"

"Oh, enough about the potatoes," Ginny cut in crossly.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Mrs. Weasley, Ron told me that you can do a conversing Patronus. Would you explain to me how to do that? I'd really like to learn."

Ignoring her husband's stern gaze, Mrs. Weasley obliged. "It's quite simple really. Just requires a bit more exertion on your part, but I'm sure you'll have no trouble with that at all." She gave Harry an affectionate smile. "You must maintain contact with some object- a Link, it's called- that the person you're trying to reach has some emotional connection with. If you are touching the Link, you'll be able hold a conversation with your target through the Patronus." She smiled sweetly at her third son. "For example, when I spoke to Percy this afternoon, I held onto a favorite book of his."

Percy looked up, interested. "Which one?"

"_Prefects Who Gained Power."_

"I remember that old thing!" Ron chortled.

Percy shifted uncomfortably. "Haven't read that one for a while."

"You don't say!" George exclaimed with a horrible twinkle in his eye. "But it really must have made an impression, Perce, because you held quite a bit of power today. Cast the deciding vote and everything!"

Arthur frowned. He had heard that little Malfoy Jr. had received no punishment at all. But surely Percy had nothing to do with–

"Oh. Well, yes. It seemed to be the right thing to do. After all, he was a bit young at the time..." Percy fiddled with the napkin beside his plate.

Without realizing at first what he was doing, Arthur jerked to his feet. He hardly noticed his family's startled eyes upon him. Vividly, memories from his own Hogwarts days were dancing through his mind... _Lucius Malfoy setting his hair on fire. Malfoy jeering from the sky as, during second year, he fell off his broom and broke his collar bone. Discovering Malfoy torturing a Muggle, surrounded by cheering Slytherins, outside the entrance to the _Leaky Cauldron_. Malfoy screaming, "_Blood traitor!" _and throwing a Cutting Hex_ _after him as he rescued the Muggle and Apparated away..._

"Arthur? Sit down," Molly said in a nervous voice.

Trying not to betray what he was feeling, Arthur ignored her and hurried from the room. He would be present at Lucius Malfoy's hearing, no doubt about that. As for Percy... he would think about that later.


End file.
